November 13 - Eleftheria Baggins: My birthday is on the thirteenth and for my request I would love anything with angst for Frodo. I don't mind other characters popping in too though. No slash.

November 18 - Nieriel Raina: would love anything with Glorfindel and Ecthelion prior to the Fall of Gondolin, Thranduil as the Elvenking, or serious Legolas and Gimli. No slash please. Or to really make my day how about something het with Erestor?

November 27 - Aranel Took: I'd like some Dwarven romance, because Dwarves need love too! Any era, any pairing, OCs are welcome.

Re: November 2007 Birthdays

My birthday is November 18. I would love anything with Glorfindel and Ecthelion prior to the Fall of Gondolin, Thranduil as the Elvenking, or serious Legolas and Gimli. No slash please. Or to really make my day how about something het with Erestor?

Re: November 2007 Birthdays

Here, Eleftheria--just what you desired! Heh! It IS a "Might Have Been" story--hope you don't mind.

--------

But, You Can't!

"Frodo...."

Frodo turned to look at his older cousin, concerned by the sound of Bilbo's voice. "What is it?" he asked reluctantly. He feared he knew what it was the old Hobbit would say.

"You'll be of age this year."

Frodo nodded, feeling the squeezing in his chest and his stomach clenching in on itself. "Yes," he managed to say.

"And you'll be ready to stand on your own."

Frodo decided to set aside one fear, the one he didn't believe was true, first. "Are you ailing secretly, Uncle?" he asked. "When Drolan Chubbs saw you last week, did he find a growth or something?"

Bilbo looked startled at the thought of it. "A growth?" he asked, obviously surprised the idea had even been considered by his young heir. "A growth?" he repeated, now looking amused at the thought. "Oh, my stars, no! Certainly not!" Then, more concerned, he continued, "Drolan didn't say anything about such a thing to you, did he?"

"Oh, no--of course not." No, definitely not illness. Then--then it was--the other thing. The dread was spreading, but he did his best to keep it hidden, raising his chin and doing his best to look merely curious. "Of course I know I'll be of age, Bilbo dearest. But if you think I'll be eager to be my own Hobbit, to set up my own home----" He knew that Bilbo meant no such thing, but this would be what most Hobbits his age would expect--even look forward to, after all.

Bilbo straightened, looking taken aback. "Me? Ask you to leave Bag End and found your own household? Why in Middle Earth would I even consider such a thing, Frodo Baggins? Why else did I adopt you as my heir except to keep the likes of the Sackville-Bagginses out of it--and because I love you dearly and rejoice to see you here, here in Bag End where you belong? No! Even if you were to marry I'd wish you here, my dear boy, you and whatever deucedly lucky lass managed at last to win your heart! I'd rejoice to know that it was the little feet of your children--yours and Sam's--tracking dirt in and out of the parlor and kitchen rather than the elegantly groomed ones of Otho, Lotho, and Lobelia under the kitchen table, you know."

Frodo found himself searching his uncle's eyes, seeing the earnestness of his expression, the entreaty in them. And he saw the thing he dreaded more than all else there as well. Well, he wasn't going to make it easy for Bilbo--not now. He held his tongue as he held the old Hobbit's eyes.

At last Bilbo spoke. "I'm old, Frodo. I know I don't look old, but I am, and you know it, too. Most Hobbits don't even make it to a hundred and ten, much less eleventy-one. But, here I still am, an old Hobbit still looking--mostly, at least--like one in my sixties at most. But I can't make it that much longer and still--still be able to do anything.

"You've always known I'll want to leave the Shire once more when I can. And you're aware, I'm certain, I swore to Rory and Gilda, Esme and Saradoc that I wouldn't leave until you were of age. Well, you'll be that in September. You'll be of age, and--and I'll be free to go back--go back and visit Erebor--pay back all the visits the Dwarves have made to me all these years. I'll be able to visit Rivendell again, and maybe even visit Mirkwood once more. Oh, I know about the dangers and the giant spiders and all; but that one memory of the glory of sunlight on leaves and flowering vines at the top of the forest where the butterflies rejoice in the sunlight! Ah, Frodo, you can't begin to appreciate what that memory does to my heart!"

Frodo remained quiet some moments longer before he finally spoke. He was astounded he could sound so calm, and even that the voice emanated from him--it sounded so even and controlled. "So, you'll leave the Shire, and leave me Master of Bag End?" He searched the older Hobbit's face, and saw the relief and growing hope reflected there. "You'll be free to head off into a new adventure, and I'll--I'll remain here to fend off the Sackville-Bagginses, eh?"

That look of hope was quelled, and he saw with a secret satisfaction the growing alarm that replaced it in Bilbo's eyes. "Is this," Frodo continued, "why you educated me as you did in business and bookkeeping and investments, so that in the end I'll be left to keep Otho and Lotho and Lobelia properly quashed? So I'll be left alone--again? The ones I love most scattered all over the Shire or out wandering the wide world, and me left alone here in the midst of it?" At last he felt his own terror filling him, causing his eyes to fill and his lip to tremble. "Oh, Bilbo, but you can't! You can't do that to me--to leave me alone again! To take away the one pillar that keeps my heart upright in my body! You can't!"

The tears were pouring from his eyes, he realized, and now he could barely see his stricken older cousin for them. He could no longer speak at all. He was shuddering with the grief he felt, the grief he could no longer hide or control. He clapped his hands to his eyes.

"But I've already planned it--I've discussed it with Gandalf--written to Rivendell and to Erebor! Oh, Frodo!" The words seemed to be fighting their way from miles away, through the roaring that had filled Frodo's ears and the excruciating sound of his own sobs of fear and grief.

At last there was a hand pulling one of his own hands from his eyes, pressing into it a clean handkerchief, one that a rather separate portion of Frodo's mind recognized as one he'd given Bilbo last spring on the anniversary of the day his cousin had run out of Bag End without any such things in his pocket, running after the thirteen Dwarves he'd then followed to Erebor. Frodo accepted it and straightened it, then bunched it up against his eyes as Bilbo reached forward to pull him against the older Hobbit's chest and shoulder.

But instead of the reassurance he'd hoped to feel, Frodo now felt again a feeling of dread--but a far different dread than he'd known before, one he could put no name to. And something, something from the back of his mind, told him perhaps this wouldn't be for the best....

Re: November 2007 Birthdays

In response to your birthday requests for a shy Erestor (and that Glorfindel would be a bonus). Also posted and added to November birthday challenge in case you decide to make a collection of your stories.

Best wishes,

Oshun

Kiss and Tell

It had been all that Arwen had remembered a perfect kiss should be. Not in the least bit coarse or demanding, nor was it one of those wet, sloppy kisses, all slavering, aggressive tongue and wide-open mouth. There had been tongue, gentle enough at first, not tentative but testing, waiting for a response, which, when assured, became inventive. The kiss was long and tender, sweet and hopeful, masterful in technique.

Leaning heavily onto him, she laughed softly. "I remember as though it were yesterday the first time you kissed me. I needn't have wondered if you knew how to kiss, Estel. Clearly you had already had some fair amount of experience."

"Ah, and you couldn't have thought such a thing if you had not had a bit of practice yourself." He laughed, jubilant and smug. "Tell me about your first kiss. Who was the fortunate man or elf?"

She felt her cheeks grow hot. She was no silly girl and it embarrassed her that this man could still make her blush. Since she had always prided herself on her courage, she would refuse to be cowed.

"Do you truly want to hear the story?"

"I surely do. I can already guess from your tone of voice and that sly look of avoidance that it was someone I know."

"Oh, you know him well enough." She laughed again, giddy as a girl. But a few more kisses, initiated by her this time, delayed her response.

"I'm still waiting," he said.

Not one to refuse a dare outright, Arwen bristled. "Perhaps I will tell you. Let me think about it for a moment."

It had all begun with her fiftieth begetting day. The celebration had been splendid. Elrond and Celebrian had done themselves proud. Guests descended upon Rivendell from far and wide. After all of the receptions, dinners and dances, there remained only one lingering disappointment. Arwen had hoped to receive her first real kiss. It had not happened. Not that there had not been a plethora of willing candidates, but something was wrong with each and every one of them. They were too young, too old, too smug, too pretty, not handsome enough, too obnoxiously clever, or too dull, etc., etc.

There had been that awful trio of Galadhrim: Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin. They were handsome enough to a man, without being too slight or pretty, maybe a bit too young, but not much too young. Yet what arrogant bounders they were. They approached her singly, altogether, and in random pairs. First they asked, then they begged, and, finally, tried to catch her unawares. She had threatened to tell her grandmother. They had merely giggled and said that, although she might be a prude, they knew she wasn't a snitch. Arwen had heard the expression kiss and tell. From what she knew of the terrible three of Lórien, they were more likely to kiss and oink. The candidates went downhill from there: vile children barely forty or less, crusty old followers of Fëanor, lecherous half-savage wood elves, lonely wanderers of Gildor's traveling company who were simply not fair game.

After the last guests had departed, Arwen took an afternoon to sun herself in Celebrian's garden, a book of love poems neglected upon her lap, and plotted her next move. She dismissed out of hand the ones who had already left. Realizing her opportunity with them would be time-limited, she had thoroughly gone over the guest list before she allowed them to escape. No. She had not overlooked anyone there. She would be forced to consider all possible candidates in Rivendell, eliminating without further ado all of the elves she had been tutored with and the elves who had been her teachers.

First on the list, of course, as he must have been for every maiden who had ever caught sight of him, was Glorfindel. Glorious, incomparable Glorfindel, all golden and luminescent, surely could not be ignored. True he was old, but not so terribly old, if one subtracted the time he had spent in the Halls of Mandos. He was clever, but not overly so, handsome as a Vala assuming Elven form, with the elegant manners of another Age. He was kind and considerate and had the loveliest mouth imaginable. Unfortunately, if she tried to kiss him she feared she would lose her nerve and make fool of herself, or be burned to an ash by his splendor or, worse still, that he might drag her to her parents by the hair. Glorfindel would not do at all.

Her reverie had been abruptly interrupted by a cry of alarm. "Well, I'll be a filthy, bloody, stinking, toothless orc!"

"Erestor," she called out. "Can I help you? Have you lost something?" Sweet, shy, devastatingly handsome Erestor, polite to a fault, if one disregarded that adorably foul mouth of his. Why had she not thought of him before? True, he was older than Glorfindel, even if one counted all those lost years. He had tutored her in language and lore. Indeed, Erestor had tutored her father as well. Also, rumor had it that he had been present at every major atrocity carried out by the sons of Fëanor.

"Lady Arwen," he replied, bowing from the waist, his voice soft and pleasant with just the slightest hint of lisp. "Please excuse me for interrupting your studies. I have apparently lost my favorite quill." He looked charmingly dismayed: shining raven locks, cheeks slightly flushed, sea-grey eyes wide open in consternation. Arwen quickly flipped the book she held facedown on the bench beside her, maneuvering its spine away from him. She recalled that he had labeled such books as silly sentimental drivel, not fit for the library of Rivendell.

"Arwen," Estel interrupted. "You've been thinking for five minutes. And now you have the most irritatingly vacant and dreamy expression. Thinking of that first kiss, no doubt."

"Actually, I was thinking of him for a moment. It was Erestor."

"I'll-be-a-bloody-stinking-toothless-orc Erestor?"

"Yes. One and the same. I had thought he would be shy and deferential, perfect for a first kiss."

Re: November 2007 Birthdays

I would definitely have given Glorfindel a close look, but am sure I would have fallen for Erestor. If the foul mouth weren't enough, the shady past have done it.

You see, I'm not very comfortable with foul language, so that would in fact have been a turn-off !

Off to withdrawn the story from the challenge. I enter stories several times a year for birthdays, but never seem to get it quite right.

Never fear, you are not the only one! In the past, these single separate stories were mostly left standing. But now that there is a single volunteer dedicated for everything to do with the Birthday Cards (*bows*), I hope I can make things more consistent, and to be more attentive to this issue.

Imhiriel

Re: November 2007 Birthdays

1. Go to "My Stuff".2. On the left-hand side, go to "Challenges" and click on "My Entries".3. You will see all stories you have entered for any challenges. Go to the appropriate challenge (in this case: November 2007 Birthdays) and click on "withdraw" on the right.

You could also go to the Challenge directly:

1. Under the top bar, go to "Sections" and select "All Challenges".2. Enter frex "November 2007" in the search bar to the left.3. A table will appear with all challenges that match your search terms, in this case of course just one .4. Click on it, and you will see the challenge "summary". Scroll down to where you will see your entry, and click on "withdraw". You will be asked to confirm the choice, so click "yes".

Re: November 2007 Birthdays

Thank you, that was a wonderful story! I really like Auð. Her explanation to her mother, "His touch has disordered by thoughts", made me smile. Poor girl. ;-) And Thekk insisting on helping with the dishes was very romantic, as was Auð's decision at the end. Lovely story!

for Aranel

I hope you don't mind that you're getting my present for you some days early... May you have a fine birthday!

Imhiriel

~*~

O Kheled-zâram fair and wonderful!

She was waiting beside his ancestor's mighty pillar, a vision of blazing copper and bronze against the polished stone.

Hands linked, breaths in harmony, they looked into Kheled-zâram, entranced and awed as always by the image of the crown in the still, dark deeps of the lake.

Feeling grounded by the weight of the moment, yet light-hearted as the sparkle on multi-faceted diamonds, he turned to her, stroked his hands along heavy tresses and flame-coloured beard, before enclosing her in his embrace, his eyes questioning.

She smiled. "Yes, I will marry you. I will become the queen of Durin VI."

~*~

A/N:- The title is a quote by Gimli in FotR, Lothlórien.- Durin VI lived from T.A. 1731-1980; he was slain by the newly re-awakened Balrog (LotR, Appendix A III).

Re: for Aranel

Aw, you did great, Imhiriel! The imagery was very romantic, especially with the references to copper and bronze and diamond and flame (all things that would be dear to a people who are miners and metalworkers).

Yes, I'll create a workshop at the end of the month and put it in the challenge. Need to spread the dwarf love! ;-)

Aranel

Re: for Aranel

Aw, you did great, Imhiriel! The imagery was very romantic, especially with the references to copper and bronze and diamond and flame (all things that would be dear to a people who are miners and metalworkers).

Ooooh, thank you very much for this judgement, Aranel!

Yes, I'll create a workshop at the end of the month and put it in the challenge. Need to spread the dwarf love! ;-)